


mg-xst-sh-1115-DONOTSHARE.mp3

by silentdescant



Series: Snapshots [6]
Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Sex Tapes, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: There’s no text, just an attachment, a mix by the looks of the garbled acronyms in the file name. He gets in the car and plugs his phone into the stereo. He didn’t think Mitch was in the studio today.





	

**Author's Note:**

> KINKtober Day 2: Dirty Talk

Scott is heading down to the parking garage when he gets Mitch’s email. There’s no text, just an attachment, a mix by the looks of the garbled acronyms in the file name. He gets in the car and plugs his phone into the stereo. He didn’t think Mitch was in the studio today.

He’s about to hit play when his phone rings. Scott’s a little disappointed it’s not Mitch, calling to explain what song he’s been working on, but he answers and starts driving, navigating the parking structure on autopilot and making his way to the highway. It’s at least a twenty-minute drive home, and the phone call takes up half of it. When Scott finally hangs up and switches back to Mitch’s song, he’s stuck in the usual stop-and-go traffic on the 10.

Mitch’s voice plays loud and clear through the car speakers, but he’s not singing.

“I’m waiting for you, baby. Tryin’ to be patient, but you know how it is. I’m not very patient. Couldn’t help myself. Touched my cock a little bit. Just a little. Just to… tide myself over.”

He sounds drunk. Tipsy, at the very least. Scott gapes at the cars around him, almost wishing someone could pinch him and make sure he’s not dreaming.

“You’ve been gone so long,” Mitch says. His voice is low and needy. The kind of tone Scott’s heard before, but only in the bedroom. He’s also only been gone since this morning, which makes him wonder how old this recording might be.

“I miss you, baby. Miss your cock. I’ve been thinking about how big you are. How fuckin’ big. It hurts, fuck. I love it. I love when you make me ache for you.”

“Jesus,” Scott whispers.

“I haven’t come yet.” He’s touching himself now, Scott knows. He can hear it in the slight breathlessness, the tightness in Mitch’s voice. “I wanted you to hear, at least. Since you can’t be here. Wanted to… be with you. Fuck.”

“Come for me, Mitchy,” Scott breathes.

“I want to feel you in me,” Mitch says. “Stretching me. With your fingers, and with your cock. Your fucking huge fuckin’ cock, Scott, I need you, I need you so bad, I miss you—” He grunts, moans—he’s not stroking himself anymore, he’s fingering himself. Scott recognizes those noises. He recognizes the sound Mitch makes when he’s bearing down, forcing his body to surrender.

He slams on the brakes a little too hard and the car behind him leans on the horn. “Sorry,” Scott gasps. “Sorry. Fuck.”

“I feel so empty without you, baby, come home and fill me the fuck _up_ , Scotty, please, I need you so bad. Want you to fuckin’ pound me, baby. Make me hurt for you. I want to feel you for days. Scott. Please. Come home, baby.”

“I’m coming,” Scott answers.

“Oh, Christ, I want—I want to taste your fucking come, _fuck_. I don’t know. I don’t know what I want, Scott, please, just… I want to feel you shoot inside me. So fucking hot. Making me wet, dripping with your come, Scott…”

“Yeah…”

“God, I miss you.” Mitch is panting now. Beneath the sounds of his breaths, his voice, Scott can hear the wet sound of skin against skin as he strokes his cock. Scott can picture it: Mitch with one hand stretched between his legs, his fingers shoved deep inside him, the other hand stripping his cock desperately. His phone must be lying on the pillow beside his face. Where Scott would be, where he could hear Mitch and kiss him, swallow all these noises.

“Come for me, baby,” Scott whispers. He’s going to miss his exit if he doesn’t pay attention. He considers getting off the highway and pulling into a gas station, or, fuck, just by the side of the fucking road, just until Mitch comes, because this is driving Scott to distraction.

“I think about—I think about you kissing me,” Mitch says. His voice is high pitched now, a whining, desperate undertone as he get close to orgasm. “I think I miss your mouth more than your cock. Fucking gorgeous mouth, baby, the way you kiss and—and suck—”

Scott groans and merges abruptly into the next lane. One more exit until the one he needs. He can make it. Maybe. If Mitch holds out. He wishes traffic would move a little fucking faster.

“God, your lips around my cock, you’re so fucking good at it,” Mitch cries. “I want it, please, Scotty, I need you, I need you to fucking suck me off, Scott, please, your—your tongue feels like fire on my fucking skin, baby, you burn me up from the inside out, I’m—”

“Yes—” Scott gasps. He shoves one hand between his legs and squeezes his aching cock through his jeans, twisting the steering wheel one-handed to exit the highway. He’s so close to home, now. Five minutes, maybe. Mitch better fucking be there. “I’m coming, baby,”

Mitch doesn’t last. He stops talking coherently. All Scott can hear are his panting, desperate breaths and the whining high in his throat, and he wants to kiss Mitch so badly. He can tell Mitch is about to come. He can practically see it in his mind’s eye. As soon as he’s off the main road he pulls into a side street and throws his car into park in the red zone of a fire hydrant.

He’s breathing hard. His heart is racing, and his cock is throbbing with need. He pushes his hand against himself, trying to hold back, and grits his teeth so he can hear Mitch come.

As usual, Mitch is loud, crying out sharply. There’s an obnoxious rustle of fabric and a loud thump, and everything gets a little fainter, but Scott can still hear Mitch’s heaving breaths. Scott’s breathing rhythm naturally falls in sync with Mitch’s and it feels like he’s hyperventilating.

A moment or two passes and Mitch whispers, “Oh, fuck.” His mouth isn’t near the microphone anymore and Scott has to strain to hear him. But then there’s another rustle and the recording ends without another word and Scott is left wanting.

He grabs for his phone and texts Mitch: **are you home**

**Yeah why**

**u know why. 5 min. gonna fuck u so hard. get naked.**

Mitch’s reply is immediate. He’s been waiting for this, and it makes Scott grin.

**:) <3**

 

 _fin_.


End file.
